


All Our Sins Remembered

by TrinesRUs



Series: Transformers: To Destroy [6]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Class Issues, Doomed Relationship, M/M, Pre-War to War, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 12:06:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7050199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrinesRUs/pseuds/TrinesRUs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They weren't supposed to befriend the city guardian. The difference of one caste was meant to be enough to split them apart. But as they work side-by-side, they can't help but grow fond of Omega Supreme. Before they realized it, they'd grown <em>very</em> fond of him.</p><p>Luckily, there's a rebel leader who is <em>very</em> interested in helping them out...</p><p>Each part of the <em>Transformers: To Destroy</em> series can be read independently, but <em>Tenets of the Dusk's Lucidity</em> is recommended reading for the rest of the series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Our Sins Remembered

**Author's Note:**

> It always bugged me that nothing was ever done with that whole "the Constructicons were Omega Supreme's friends before they were Decepticons" thing in G1. Then I thought, "Hey, I have that AU fic continuity," and, well...here we are.

            Scrapper barely stirred on the slab where he’d lain for the spark transfer before the administrator overseeing his team’s creation clapped his servos together and ordered, “Alright, every mech on their pedes.”

            They all scrambled up, regardless of whether their equilibrium chips were booted up or not. One of them slipped. The smallest one: Scrounge—no, Scavenger, his processor registered. Scrapper was programmed with the knowledge of all his team members’ designations, so it felt odd to get one wrong, even for a fragment of a klik.

            “Get up, you worthless piece of scrap,” the administrator growled, hauling Scavenger up by the energon lines on the back of his neck. He ignored the whimpers of pain and threw Scavenger aside. Scavenger stumbled until he could stabilize himself, and then, at the sight of the administrator’s glare, straightened his spinal strut.

            “Alright, then. You mechs already have your first assignment. Let’s show you your City Guardian.”

            Something in Scrapper tingled at the sound of the City Guardian being called theirs, but the obedience programming instantly turned the tingle into a zap to his circuits at the thought. No, of course, the administrator didn’t mean to imply a connection beyond this first project of theirs. If anything, he meant to remind them of rank, of the mech they would essentially be serving under, who owned their project. It was a difference of only one caste, but they would still defer to “their” City Guardian.

            “Of course, sir,” said Scrapper, saluting. He wasn’t sure whether to be glad his teammates didn’t make fools of themselves more in front of the administrator or if he was disappointed with their refusal to show their personalities just yet. It should have been great that he didn’t have to whip them into shape so early after being constructed, but he needed to know what he was going to have to deal with for the rest of his function.

            It was a strangely lonely walk to the City Guardian’s programming chamber.

            The City Guardian was massive, probably the height of three Constructive mechs stacked on one another’s pauldrons. His paint was grey, red, and vivid, glaring yellow. There were worse paint jobs to look at, Scrapper supposed, like his and his team’s bright green and purple. Still, he wasn’t sure a mech that big needed a paintjob as conspicuous as that. At least theirs could be excused as assurance that their Guardian wouldn’t step on them.

            “This, mechs,” announced the administrator, “is Omega Supreme. Your job, first and foremost, is to make sure he can do his job. If he tells you there’s a security risk in your design, there’s a security risk. If he tells you something’s not working, it’s not working. You’ll obey every change he orders unless directly contradicted by higher authority. Understood?”

            Scrapper could see Hook’s lipplate curl in distaste, but he said, “Understood,” before the crane had the opportunity to complain. Scrapper glared at Hook, willing him to keep quiet, just until the administrator was out of their gears. He wondered what this gesture meant about his teammate’s personality, natural rebellion against authority or a built artist. Either one could prove a problem, but the latter could at least be channeled.

            Omega Supreme’s optics flashed on, lighting whole patches of the chamber in blue. He rose unsteadily from the ground, shaking them all with his massive, clumsy steps. “Omega Supreme: online,” he announced, and that sent quakes—barely smaller than the ones his steps had—down their armor. “Orders: awaited.”

            The administrator seemed a little impatient, but he was smarter than to snap at a City Guardian. Construction mechs would take any abuse slung at them right off the bat, but City Guardians were more likely to see everything in terms of “threat” or “not a threat.” Clearly, the administrator wasn’t keen on being stepped on. He forced pleasantness into his E.M.-field and said, “I’d like you to meet the team that’s going to give you your city.”

            For a moment, Omega Supreme’s optics glowed brighter, and his E.M.-field flooded with joy. “Give me…?”

            “Build it,” corrected the administrator. “Your post is given by the generosity of the Council, of course.”

            Scrapper could be wrong, but he sensed a little disappointment from Omega Supreme. Before Scrapper could dwell too long on it, Omega Supreme said, “Authority: recognized. Commencement of project: desired.”

            “You’ll have your project soon enough.” The administrator pulled out a datapad and flicked through a few files. “There’s an issue of space. You’ll need to go in for demolition first; then, you can worry about planning and building. Head through that door.” He gestured with his helm to a tall opening that even a City Guardian could fit through. “I’ll take you as far as Mebion. It’s all up to you from there.”

 

            From what Hook could tell, “I’ll take you as far as Mebion,” actually meant, “I’ll dump you about a mile from Mebion and run like I expect you to attack me at any moment.” Hook didn’t know what he was most offended by: being stereotyped as a brute when he hadn’t been active for a full solar-cycle yet, the fact that the administrator didn’t think they could have caught up and terminated him if they tried, or the fact that they had to take orders from a big, lumbering idiot like Omega Supreme rather than let their artistic instincts guide them completely.

            While it was up to them to design and build the new city on their own, a few particulars of their first project had been downloaded directly to their processors. Mebion wasn’t just their drop-off site; it was their construction zone. Mebion had been evacuated, about a deca-cycle beforehand, due to an outbreak of berserker cy-virus. After the situation was cleaned up, the damage was deemed significant enough to necessitate a complete reconstruction of the city from the ground-up. The High Council were funding the facilities they deemed vital, and a few nobles and business owners had channeled credits into building their residences and facilities.

            Another thing Hook had been programmed with was a catalogue of architectural techniques and styles. He supposed the rest of the team had to be as well, or at the very least Scrapper did, but Hook doubted any of them had quite the appreciation for their resources that he did. Hook was determined to craft curves and spirals that would rival the beauty of Uraya’s, crystal gardens greater than those of Praxus, and transform the hexagons of Kaon into something grander than anything Cybertron had ever seen.

            Before he could do more than dream of creating, however, the old city had to come down. Hook was not as suited for the task as Bonecrusher was, nor did he take quite the same level of delight, but all six of them participated in the destruction, regardless of how appropriate their alt-modes were for the task. Hook could take satisfaction in seeing the optic-sore that was Mebion come down.

            After they had taken down a block, however, Scavenger started to wander off on his own. “Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Hook shouted after him. If he had to hook up a wrecking ball and throw his weight around, surely the power-digger couldn’t get away with slacking off.

            Clearly Scrapper had some sense, because he ordered, “Scavenger, get back over here and help me load Long Haul.”

            “Wait, don’t take it away just yet,” said Scavenger. “There’s some good stuff in this debris. I’m picking up graphene…and tetrinite…trithyllium and…goethite…and cybernite!”

            Hook felt his artistic instincts recoiling in disgust. “I don’t want to build in permacrete and cybernite. That’s so gauche. I wanted to construct a glistening crystal city!”

            “Form follows function,” said Scrapper. “Doesn’t matter if it’s pretty if no one can live in it.”

            “Hm…” Mixmaster transformed into root-mode and took a place at Scavenger’s side. “I think I can synthesize these materials into something stronger than dutronium and more beautiful than fluoro-steel alloy or Lysken crystal. If I could just find some spare tutonium…”

            “You’re not getting it off my chassis!” cried Scavenger, pulling in his shovel.

            “Of course you’re not; I still need you to find my materials.”

            “I’m not sacrificing _my_ chassis,” said Long Haul.

            “No one’s getting metaled down for tutonium, you bolt-helms,” Scrapper barked. “There should be plenty in these walls if we just look for it. Mixmaster, help Scavenger sort out what you need and what’s scrap, then get back to demolition. Scavenger, load Long Haul up with the excess to be carted away. Bonecrusher, Hook, keep on going with me. Let’s get back to work!”

            Omega Supreme loomed over the worksite, a useless, lumbering watchman. Hook wished they could at least put the giant to work; he could probably knock down the whole city in the time it took them to take down a block. The obedience programming didn’t like the thought of putting a City Guardian to a job he wasn’t created for, but the little shock it sent to Hook’s systems couldn’t stop him from grumbling.

            “Hook!”

            “I heard you the first time! I’m coming! Primus.”

 

            Scavenger loaded up Long Haul dutifully, but he felt a little sad. If Mixmaster could make new material out of the old, he didn’t see why they had to throw half of it away. There was great material there, enough that they could build a whole new city out of what Mebion left behind, and they would be saving so much money on supplies! But everyone insisted that they had to pick and choose what they reused, and Scavenger couldn’t disobey his orders.

            Even with fewer of their team working on demolition, it was hard to keep up work with them. He had to wait on Long Haul to haul the refuse away and come back before he could continue with his own job. Scavenger wished he could at least spend the wait time searching through the undemolished buildings for trinkets and treasure. It wasn’t like someone with his location abilities was going to get lost or anything.

            When the solar-cycle was up, the team set up camp and gathered together to take their rations. Scavenger wiggled in his seat before breaking the seal on his energon cube. He’d never tasted energon before—never tasted _anything_ before—so he wasn’t sure how it was more bitter than he was expecting, but it was. He nearly gagged on it. His systems protested loudly.

            “Quit whining and drink up, kid,” said Bonecrusher. He chugged his own energon, though there was the sense of a grimace in his E.M.-field.

            “I’m not a kid,” whined Scavenger. “I’m the same age as all of you.” But he gripped his cube and gulped it down, hoping that the speed would keep him from tasting too much off the distressing flavor.

            Omega Supreme stood far off from their group, glancing hesitantly between his cube and them, lipplates moving like he wanted to say something. Scavenger felt bad for him, being all alone like that. He started towards the giant, but Long Haul grabbed him by the pauldron.

            “Where do you think you’re going?”

            “He’s by himself,” said Scavenger, jerking his helm towards Omega Supreme. “We should invite him over.”

            “No way,” Hook interjected. “He’s clumsy; he’s massive; he’s—”

            “Our superior,” said Scrapper, “and not a part of the team. Don’t get attached, Scavenger. After this project, you’ll never see him again.”

            Scavenger wilted. They were right, of course, but that didn’t make it easier. The fact that they wouldn’t see Omega Supreme again after they built the new city didn’t mean they wouldn’t have to see him the whole time they were on this project—and especially that Scavenger wouldn’t die a little inside every time he had to see Omega Supreme standing out there without any friends or teammates of his own.

            He stared glumly at the bottom of his energon cube until Bonecrusher punched his pauldron. “Hey, c’mon. Why did the electrical system in the prison keep malfunctioning?” Bonecrusher paused, waiting for Scavenger to look at him before finishing, “The warden didn’t hire an electrician; she let a conduit.”

            Hook buried his faceplate in his servos. Long Haul chucked his empty cube at Bonecrusher’s helm. Scrapper seemed unaffected, but Mixmaster laughed until coolant leaked from his optics. Scavenger managed a small chuckle, but he couldn’t fight back the nugget of guilt burrowing in his processor.

            He drained the dregs of his energon, tossed the cube aside, and laid his frame down for recharge. A berth was a concept he was vaguely aware of, more in the sense that it was something that would be moved into the residential buildings they built than as something he would ever know for himself or miss. The ground was hard and unyielding, and he kept turning and rearranging his shovel in a futile effort to get comfortable, but he had no reason to believe it would be any easier on a berth.

            Scavenger wondered how much harder it had to be for a giant, who couldn’t even lift a servo without considering how it might disturb the environment around him.


End file.
